


His Boys

by QueenUndertheBloodyMountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other, Thorin Feels, Thorin POV, Uncle Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain/pseuds/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin was there at their births, and their deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I made a sad thing again and I am very sad, I have no idea where these are coming from. No beta, I don't own them, etc etc.

The day Fíli was born, Thorin was the second person to hold him after Dís’ husband, Bíli. He was terrified at first, he had never before held such a fragile and precious bundle before, but he beamed with pride as he held the little babe, a smile to rival the entire treasures within the Lonely Mountain. Then Fíli began to cry. Cry was a more subdued description of the sounds coming from the newborn, Fíli began to wail and scream, little face scrunched up and beat red like a sun-dried tomato; it was as if his uncle were pulling his fingers off. Thorin very nearly dropped the little bundle of blankets and baby in shock, recovering just in time but quickly passing Fíli to his father. But his pride for his heir never wavered, and it never dimmed.

After Kíli’s birth Thorin was much more prepared. By that point the regal dwarf had been slobbered on, spit up on, urinated on, and once—to his utter horror—had even been sneezed on, into his open mouth no less, by Fíli. He knew how to manage a squirming child with one arm nearly effortlessly (something that did not come without a lot of practice and a few good bumps on a thankfully sturdy dwarfling head), he knew the best ways to soothe achy ears, sore throats, and general scuffs and scrapes. He was a master at chasing away nightmares and fending off monsters from under beds, and he could change a diaper like an expert. What he was _not_ prepared for, was an early labor and a baby barely clinging onto life. There were no kisses or smiles that could pull Kíli from Death’s door and into this world with them. He could not beg the tiny dwarfling to stay, although he certainly tried, or plead with the Maker to gift them the life of the dwarfling, even if it meant him taking his stead. No, all Thorin Oakenshield could do was to hold the tiny babe to his chest and sing to him to try and ease Kíli’s discomfort.

Years later, Dís would swear that her brother’s singing, coupled with her eldest son’s tears and soft encouragements, would convince her fragile little bird to stay with them. Thorin was not ashamed that he wept with joy and relief when Kíli opened his eyes and giggled. Kíli began to giggle and coo for the first time since his birth, music to everyone’s ears after the whimpers and pain filled noises the dwarfling was making before. And if no one ever thought to comment on Thorin’s tears, it went unnoticed; Thorin Oakenshield was once again beaming with pride, he now had two beautiful heirs.

Thorin was not unaccustomed to powerful emotions around his beloved nephews. He had been there at their births, he had been the father figure they sorely lacked after their father passed into the stone—a time when nothing could tell them _why_ or was able to soothe their pain—and his heart broke when he had to witness their deaths. His boys, because they _were_ his boys as much as they ever were Dís and Bíli’s, had died in front of his very eyes. His beautiful heirs, so full of life and laughter, were slain protecting _him_ and all his foolishness. Thorin did the only thing he knew to do and held them as he sang to them, begging to Mahal to bless him one last time as they faded in his arms.

For the fourth time in Thorin’s life, he wept for the loss of his nephews. And Thorin Oakenshield followed his heirs, not long after them; Thorin Oakenshield, King beneath the Mountain, didn’t die of battle wounds or blood loss, but of grief and loss and regret, to the Halls of Waiting, and into the embraces of his smiling boys again.

**~FIN~**


End file.
